


Fall in Winter

by Stilienski



Series: Sterek ficlets [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: my sincerest apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stilienski/pseuds/Stilienski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentine's day was almost there and this year Stiles was prepared, really he was! He just figured he'd have more time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall in Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the prompt [Lonaargh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonaargh/pseuds/Lonaargh) <3  
> And thanks for the idea [JungleJelly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JungleJelly/pseuds/JungleJelly)
> 
> I love and hate you both.  
> But mostly love.  
> Because you're awesome.

It was February. The forest was frozen. He liked the cold, always had. Derek loved to walk around in the woods with nothing but the sound of his footsteps on the crisp leaves. With most of the animals being asleep or having migrated to warmer places the world was always so quiet in winter. It was his favourite time of year. Everything felt so holiday-y during winter, even if Christmas had already come and gone. Not like Derek would ever admit his love for the holidays to anyone, but he could enjoy it on his own.

During winter, Derek didn’t run a lot, he walked. He could spend an entire day just walking. There were barely any scents to distract him from his beautiful white surroundings. It seemed as if the smell of cold overruled everything else that might have been floating around through the air. Snow should have seemed too bright in his eyes, but somehow it never was. Sometimes on his long walks he thought that it all looked like those black and white movies his parents used to watch on Sunday afternoons. Just the white of the snow and the brown of the trees.

Winter was peaceful.

It should have been peaceful. But instead the morning was filled with noise. Running footsteps, panting lungs, racing hearts and roaring wolves. It should have been peaceful, but instead the air was filled with scents that assaulted his nose. Fear, anger, sweat and gunpowder… even his beloved winter couldn’t freeze that.

He ran with his pack, not in front like the alpha normally would, but instead choosing to be the barrier between them and the hunters, however ineffective that was. Everyone knew that this wasn’t going to work out for anyone. Running wasn’t going to save their lives this time. Derek could smell the pain Isaac was in, could see how the wolvesbane infused bullets were affecting Boyd, Isaac, Scott…

Turning around, he made up his mind. He had fought through a lot of years of solitude to find this pack. He would fight to protect it, even if it cost him his life. His betas turned with him. They had sat through plenty of “useless” training sessions to know exactly what to do. Keep low. Never run in a straight line. Use your speed. Go for the guns, then the hunters. Erica and Isaac were the fastest, by far. Boyd went for brute strength and smarts. Scott relied on instinct most of the time, he may not be able to explain why he did some great tactical moves, but he just felt it. Derek couldn’t complain. Whatever kept them alive was absolutely fine by him.

Derek just did his best to keep an eye on all of them. Trying to pick up the slack. They were still kids, he couldn’t expect them to deal with all of this as well as they did, but even so, making a mistake here could cost them their lives. So Derek watched their backs when they forgot to. Derek took out the guns that they didn’t see till it was almost too late.

But even the alpha couldn’t be everywhere at once. More and more blood was spilled. The winter white forest floor was quickly being stained red, as if the fall leaves were already back again. Boyd fell first, then they took out Erica when she got distracted by the pain of her mate.

That’s when he heard the scream. The wail of the banshee. A sign of death for most, but not for Derek’s pack. For them it was hope. If Lydia knew then back-up was on its way. If Lydia knew then they only needed to hang in there for a bit longer till she figured a way out of this mess. She’d bring the big guns. The sheriff. Parish. They would come in from behind the hunters, effectively trapping them.

They all knew they just had to hold on, stand their ground for a bit longer. Boyd clawed at his own flesh, trying to tear the poisonous bullets out. Scott threw him a lighter to burn the wolvesbane. Derek’s nose was filled by the sweet and smoky scent in no time. Together with Scott and Isaac he tried to keep the hunters off as much as possible while Erica and Boyd did their best to get themselves in a fighting condition again.

Isaac fished in his backpocket for one of Lydia’s smokebombs. If the hunters couldn’t see where to shoot at that would give the pack the advantage for once. They had taken out at least 6 hunters already but more seemed to keep popping up out of nowhere. Derek didn’t think he’d ever seen that many hunters in one place. Definitely not that many hunters that were interested in such a small pack.

It wasn’t long before he heard cars coming their way. It was faster than he’d expected to be honest, but still, probably not fast enough. Isaac was slumped against a tree, multiple shotwounds in his stomach. He wasn’t moving and worse, as far as Derek could tell, the boy wasn’t healing either.

The rumblings of Stiles’ jeep was like music to his ea-.

Stiles was here. Stiles shouldn’t be here. Of course he was, Derek didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of the fragile spaz showing up before. If Lydia had called the sheriff and Parish, possibly even Peter and Allison then Stiles wouldn’t stay at home while his friends were fighting for their lives. Stiles was too loyal and too… _Stiles_ to stay out of this. Even if fighting with the pack would put his own life in danger. Even if he didn’t have anything but a baseball bat to defend himself.

Derek knew Stiles would show up, smelling of anxiety but swinging that bat for all it was worth. He would try to disarm the hunters with his snide remarks and pretend he wasn’t scared at all. Stiles would show up with his pale skin that bruised so easily. Stiles would show up with bones and skin that wouldn’t magically heal in a matter of minutes. There was no question that Stiles would show up, but would he ever leave the battlefield?

Peter got there first. Roaring as he finished one hunter off immediately. Two arrows flew through the air in quick succession, piercing the legs of as many hunters. Even over the fighting he could hear Parish’ voice.

“You both stay in this car, whatever happens, do you understand?” A yes from Lydia.

“Hell no. Get out of my way.” Derek groaned as he heard Stiles running towards them, then he saw him. A grey t-shirt and spider-man pyjama bottoms. Stiles’ eyes searching, first fleeting over Scott and Erica till they finally rested on Derek’s face. Derek saw how his eyes set decisively, he gripped the bat firmer in his hand and that mouth already started screaming cockily, “You brought all these guns for a couple of unarmed teenagers? Oh, did I hear someone say “coward”? Nope, it’s just everything about you guys screaming “coward”! Do you really think shooting up a bunch of teenagers is going to help anyone?”

There was no way Stiles had possessed the same agility and speed, the same amount of wiry muscle half a year ago during their last crisis: the alpha pack. But now he ducked effortlessly when one of the hunters closest to him swung his knife. Stiles didn’t hesitate to shatter the guy’s kneecap with one strong swing of his bat.

This fight was just like other fights, chaotic, messy. There was too much going on. Scott was busy keeping more bullets from hitting Isaac. Erica and Boyd were barely standing up straight. Peter and Derek were the only werewolves who were still able to fight properly. Allison tried her best, but a crossbow in this chaos wasn’t the best weapon, she couldn’t shoot it and risk hitting a member of the pack. Same for her Chinese throw knives. Derek just saw she let the crossbow fall to the floor before he had to throw a hunter off of Erica. In doing so he forgot to watch his own back for once.

He only heard Stiles scream of warning when it was almost to late. “Watch out!” followed by the sound of a skull cracking under the heavy blow of the wood in Stiles’ hands. He didn’t have the time to even shoot the boy a grateful look.

They steadily gained more ground. More and more hunters just ran to go and take care of their wounded allies. There were only two stubborn ones left standing. Derek took out one with a punch to his face, taking the big automatic gun from his hands and throwing it as far away as he could. Peter had some difficulty with the other guy, who seemed to have the werewolf pinned on a long knife.

Derek was closest, so instead of making sure he really rendered the other one useless, he wrestled the hunter that was still standing. Then the shot came.

One single shot. It sounded so much more hollow than the shots coming out of the machine guns. He’d missed the pistol.  He’d made a mistake.

When he turned to see what that mistake – _who_ that mistake – would cost him, his eyes fell on Scott first who finished the hunter off like Derek should’ve done. Then on Stiles, wide-eyed, still looking at him. As if Derek was his alpha as well.

Stiles looked red. Stiles usually looked red, wearing that same old hoodie as much as possible, which is why Derek didn’t think much of it for 2 seconds. 2 seconds before Stiles fell down and turned the snow red as well. 2 seconds before Derek snapped out of his daze of fear and ran to the boy’s side.

All the while repeating to himself that _he’d made a mistake_.

“Stop that… I’m fine…” How did he always manage to know what Derek was thinking? Why had stiles always been the one to be able to look past the mask that Derek so carefully put in place every day again and again?

“That’s a lie.” He didn’t know what else to say as he pressed his hand firmly on the red spot that was growing way too rapidly.

“Nothing gets past those keen werewolf senses, huh, big guy?”

“He did. I… I should have…” _he should have saved Stiles_.

“Oy, you did all you could.” Stiles coughed which left a pained expression on his face… and blood on his lips. “I’m dying here, let’s not make this all about you.”

“You’re not dying! I’m not going to let you, you can’t do this, you can’t do this to Scott, to your dad…”

“I don’t think you can guilt a person into stopping to die.”

“Stiles, we could try…. I could tr-“

“No.” He opened his mouth to say something else but didn’t seem to get the words out right away. Derek was only vaguely aware of the crowd they’d gathered, but Stiles seemed to be completely oblivious to his friends standing around him. “I need to ask you one more thing and it really sucks that I have to ask you this now… but I… I p-promised my mom.”

Everyone knew Stiles went to the cemetery to visit his mom once a week. Everyone knew he had lunch right there by her grave. Derek had always assumed that Stiles was brave enough to do what he himself couldn’t. Stiles talked to his mom all the time even though Derek was too much of a coward to face his mom, his dad, his family after what he caused.

“What, Stiles? What do you need to ask?” It had been a long time since Derek had felt tears on his cheeks. It had been an even longer time since he’d let anyone see them.

“Valentine’s day is coming up. I… you…” _Valentine’s day?_ “Yes, I realize we’re both covered in blood. And I get that this isn’t very romantic. But… well… Happy valentine’s? No… no wait, that was for next year.” _Next year?_

“Stiles, what…?”

“Shush, I get that m-“ more coughing, more blood, more pain… less time. “I get that my talking annoys you, but just let me… please… I promised my m-mom.” Derek didn’t know why he even bothered, between all the blood and the dirt and sweat, Derek didn’t know why he bothered to wipe Stiles’ tears away.

“Do you want to be my valentine? There was sup-posed to be a card and chocolates, but… I figured this wasn’t the time to woo you. And I got nothing left to lose.” Derek heard Lydia tell Parrish her hopes of the ambulance arriving on time, but couldn’t actually focus on that right now.

“Only if you live till then, Stiles. I can’t be your valentine if you’re not here, you can’t just ask me that and then don’t show up to our date. I’ll be waiting in my loft for hours till you show up with that ridiculous car of yours. You can’t not show up to our first date.”

“’s not a ridiculous car. You know you love Roscoe.” _‘I will defend that car to my dying breath, Derek, stop telling me to get a new one’_.

“She’s cute, yeah.”

“You used the right pronouns.” Why did the dork still look so happy?

“We need to bring him to the edge of the woods, Derek, the ambulance is on its way.” Parish was using his deputy voice, filled with fake calm and forced reason.

Stiles stopped Derek when he wanted to pick him up. “This is not your fault, okay? You… you have this thing about blaming yourself… but this is not your fault.” Then he took a moment to really look at Derek and whatever it was that Stiles saw on his face made him sigh. “I forgive you. It’s not your fault, but you won’t believe that. So, Derek Hale, thy be forgiven.”

As soon as Derek actually picked Stiles up from the floor, the boy cried out in pain and passed out. Which he probably knew would happen, since he’d rushed to get those last words out.

 

The day after, on February 14th Derek saw Stiles again. Through the window of a hospital room. His pale body unmoving underneath white sheets. He saw and heard the monitors, stood there for hours staring through that small window, standing in the way of nurses and doctors and patients. But he couldn’t move away.

Till of course, inevitably, the machines stopped beeping, the line went flat. Till Stiles’ father came out of the room, reddened eyes and his lips set in an angry snarl, baring his teeth as he pushed Derek against the wall and just started to slam his fists into Derek’s torso. Started screaming about “protection” and “promises” and Derek took it all as he slowly but surely moved his arms up around John’s shoulders, till John fell into him. They sobbed, chests heaving and tears spilling and they _knew_ the pain the other was going through. Their Stiles was gone. The annoying, sarcastic little shithead they both cared about so much.

Eventually both men sank to the floor, the father and the boyfriend who could’ve been, sobbing over the love they lost.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah.... so there's that...  
> I'm sorry, I'll make it up somehow.


End file.
